Necessary Risk
by 104Arianna
Summary: When John's life is in danger, Sherlock realizes that the only way to protect him is to put himself in the firing line...literally. Rated T just to be safe. Can be seen as friendship, pre-slash or slash. UPDATED! Prequel to 'Life Continues'.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock sadly...Arthur Conan Doyle and technically the BBC do...oh well...**

**Necessary Risk**

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

John had been called into work on the day that Sherlock had received a call from Lestrade, so was unable to accompany him to the crime scene. Sherlock told John about the case Lestrade had asked him to advise on while they ate the pizza they had ordered. Well, more John ate and Sherlock nibbled at.

A mother had been found dead on her kitchen floor with multiple stab wounds, and her eleven year old daughter badly injured. The daughter was so badly injured that she had been rendered unconscious and was being taken care of in hospital. The father had died when the child was seven, and the child had very little close family members left. At first the police believed it to be a robbery, but found that nothing had been stolen or damaged. The murder weapon was unfound, so it was hard to determine the murderer. This case had confused two different Detectives, yet when Sherlock showed up, he had solved it within the hour. Within another hour, the mother's brother had been arrested and taken to the station. Sherlock had quickly realized that the brother had been abusing the child for months. He had suspected it from the start, and had searched the brother's house for the weapon, finding it buried in the back garden. He was therefore able to work out that the mother had only recently found out. She had threatened to inform the police and remove him from their lives, when his anger got the better of him and he decided to kill his sister, and to adopt the child afterwards so that he would still have his little 'punching bag'. However, the child was injured in the attack trying to protect her mother. He knew that he had to get the child to a hospital, if only for his own reasons. He had planned on intimidating the child enough so that she would never tell anyone what happened. He had not planned on Sherlock Holmes coming along to solve the case.

"What's going to happen to the little girl?" John asked.

"A relative that lives in Scotland is going to take her, and look after her. The dead father's sister, I think it was" came the reply.

Five minutes later, Sherlock's mobile buzzed. He pulled himself out of his seat, moving across to the desk in order to read the message he had just received. It read:

_**That case was a bit mundane for you, my dear Sherlock  
Might have to remedy that  
M**_

Sherlock froze. Moriarty. This was the first solid proof that he was still alive. Another body had been found after the explosion at the pool, but it was so badly burnt that it was unrecognizable. Yet, something in the back of Sherlock's mind had told him not to believe that it was Moriarty. This proved how right he was to think it. Another text came in:

_**What do you think?  
M**_

Sherlock decided to reply.

_**I think I can't be bothered. Go away  
SH**_

His reply came almost instantly.

_**Now, now, don't act like that!  
I might start thinking you don't enjoy those little games of ours  
M**_

Sherlock was about to respond, when another came in.

_**Let's ask Johnny Boy!  
**__**I'm sure he'd love to play a little game!  
M**_

**(JOHN's POV)**

John had heard Sherlock's mobile beep a third time in the last minute, and decided to turn to ask Sherlock who was texting him. He noticed Sherlock tense up as he read whatever he had just been sent. Something was wrong, John could tell. He knew by now how Sherlock reacted to things. He knew that Sherlock never really showed emotion, but there were little traits in his personality that appeared whenever something was wrong, or something bad was about to happen. This was one of them.

"Sherlock, are you okay?". When no response came, he asked again. Still no response, he stood up and moved forwards slightly. Then stopped as Sherlock turned to look at him.

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Sherlock turned to look at John when he heard him calling his name, still trying to not let anger overwhelm him. Looking at John, all that anger went away, and was replaced with worry and complete shock at what he saw. A red dot hovered over where John's neck was, and as he looked towards the window, he could see a slight red line coming through it. Moriarty had placed a sniper in the empty house across the street, and was ready to kill John at a moments notice.

He saw John stop moving towards him as he looked at Sherlock. He wanted to tell John - he had not yet noticed the red target that threatened his life. John was looking at him in confusion, wondering who had been texting - he could tell from the occasional dart of his eyes towards the mobile. John focused on his face, noticing that he was worried about something. John knew something was wrong, he just had no idea how much.

**(JOHN'S POV)**

John looked from the mobile, back to Sherlock. He saw the mask he usually wore drop, and worry and shock shown through. Something definitely had to be wrong if it were bad enough to make him show such emotion, even if it were only a little part of what he was really feeling. Then he saw it.

When the sniper had moved slightly, the target had moved also, capturing John's attention. The red dot, reminding him of the incident back at the pool, of how he had had to pull Sherlock to safety to stop those same red dots as well as the explosion itself from harming either one of them.

This was what Sherlock was reacting to. He could tell from the look on his face that Sherlock was thinking of a way to get him out of this situation, the concern growing as he contemplated different ideas, then realized that they would never work. John just stood completely still, knowing that any move he made would be his last one. He kept his eyes locked on Sherlock as his flatmate thought, his eyes darting about the room, looking for something, anything to stop the inevitable from happening.

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Sherlock looked frantically around the room. Bookcase? Too far away. Blinds? Too far away. Gun? Too far away, plus he would never have enough time to shoot the sniper before the shoot was fired. He couldn't think of anything that would get them both out of this situation, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Another text came in:

_**Worried are we dear Sherlock?  
Should have seen this coming, I did say I'd burn out your heart  
Shame, I liked Johnny boy  
M**_

Suddenly everything felt like it was in slow motion. Looking up from the mobile, he saw the red dot now hovering over the lower half of John's chest, and knew what was about to happen. Dropping the phone, he ran forwards and pushed John to the floor, falling with him. As they fell, the glass of the window shattered, the bullet landing in the wall next to the door.

**(JOHN****'S POV)**

John heard the shattering of the window glass, and felt Sherlock fall to the floor next to him. Sherlock's chair perfectly hid them from the view of the window, protecting them from further shots. John quickly but carefully crawled to the wall next to the fireplace, being cautious as to keep out of view of the window, and managed to crawl underneath the window frame. He was able to reach up and close the blinds and curtains, preventing the sniper from being able to shoot again.

He'd known the second he saw that red dot that Moriarty had to be behind this. He was still alive. He also knew that he would have given orders to the sniper not to shoot Sherlock - he wanted him alive. This gave him peace of mind, knowing that the sniper wouldn't shoot again, without fear of shooting Sherlock. Moriarty would kill him if he managed to get Sherlock killed.

Looking to his left, he saw that Sherlock had managed to do the same, shutting the blinds and curtains of the other window. He was standing now, leaning on the desk with his right arm. He picked up the mobile as it beeped once more, and leaned against the desk again as he read the text.

_**Spoil sport, you ruined my fun!  
**__**That will not do  
M**_

John saw Sherlock shake his head as he read whatever the text had said, and threw away the mobile from his right hand. As he did so, Sherlock winced in pain, a sharp and piercing feeling flooding him. John stood and was about to ask him if he was okay, when he saw the blood. Underneath Sherlock's smart jacket, he saw the redness getting darker with every passing second. He came around the desk and lifted Sherlock's shirt as he held onto the desk, obviously needing the support, otherwise he would pass out. The blood was coming from a bullet wound in Sherlock's stomach, a through and through.

Before he could apply pressure to prevent him bleeding out, Sherlock collapsed. He managed to catch him before he hit his head on the ground, then gently helped him to lie down. He yelled for Mrs Hudson as he held his hands over the wound.

"Stay with me, Sherlock. Stay with me.."

He heard some vague reply, but it was so quiet he couldn't understand it. He heard Mrs Hudson coming up the stairs.

"Mrs Hudson! Phone for an ambulance!" he yelled.

He heard Mrs Hudson doing as she had been instructed, as she walked into the living room where Sherlock lay. A gasp came from her lips as she saw the scene that lay before her. She turned away as she spoke to the woman that had answered the call, and John looked around for anything that he could use to help him stop the bleeding. He saw one of his own jumpers lying on the chair at the desk and grabbed it.

"No…John…favourite…"

Even though it wasn't much, John had managed to understand what Sherlock was trying to say.

"I know it's my favourite, Sherlock, but I think your life matters a little bit more than some stupid jumper" he said.

He saw Sherlock smile at his reply, attempting to laugh.

"Only a little?" he joked.

He couldn't help but smile at Sherlock's comment. He looked away from Sherlock and back to the bullet wound. The red liquid was quickly soaking through the jumper, staining it probably permanently.

"Sherlock, I need you to keep talking. Stay awake, okay?" he began.

"What is there to…talk about…at a time…like this?" he replied.

"Well, for starters, what the heck do you think you were doing? You got shot pushing me out of the way, Sherlock, you shouldn't have bothered".

"Had to…you would've been…in my position".

"Exactly, and you're the important one here, for crying out loud".

"Not…you are…".

"Sherlock, that was a stupid thing to do-"

"It was a necessary risk…"

John looked back to Sherlock, seeing that his eyes were starting to close, his skin paler than he had ever seen. John kept one hand over the wound, and brought the other to Sherlock's face, making him open his eyes again.

"Stay awake, Sherlock. I told you to stay awake".

Sherlock smiled weakly. "Since when did…I do as I was told?"

His eyes locked onto John's for a moment, before slowly closing his own once more.

He never saw the tear that fell down John Watson's face.

He never heard the ambulance arrive.

He never felt the warm hands searching for a pulse.

There was nothing but the darkness that had chosen to consume him. He was alone with the thought that John was safe...and alive.

**Hi! This is my first fanfiction so any comments would be greatly appreciated! If there are any mistakes, I was writing this at 1 am - probably NOT the best idea - so im sorry if anyone finds any. I used to write fanfiction a long time ago when i was younger, but lost it all when my computer was thrown out, and i completely forgot to transfer the files, so i really enjoyed writing this. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock…yada yada.**

_The red liquid was quickly soaking through the jumper, staining it probably permanently…_

"_Stay with me, Sherlock. Stay with me"…_

_His eyes locked on John's for a moment, before closing once more. _

_He never saw the tear that fell down John Watson's face. He never heard the ambulance arrive. He never felt the warm hands looking for a pulse. _

_There was nothing but the darkness that had chosen to consume him. He was alone with the thought that John was safe… and alive._

**Then he heard it.**

_Beep. Beep._

There was something familiar about that sound. But he couldn't think about it. It wasn't important anymore. Nothing was. All he could feel was the coldness that came with dying. Then something warm grasped his hand. Someone was holding him, not wanting to let him go. Then he heard a voice, it was so quiet that he almost missed it.

"Come on, Sherlock. Stay with me…".

He recognized that voice from somewhere, like an echo of something from the past, but he couldn't remember where from. Yet it was comforting. There was something about that voice that made him feel safe, and he couldn't remember why.

He realized it was some time later when he heard the repeating sound of his heart beat being played on the monitor that was somewhere to his left. He could tell he was in a bed - the soft duvet and pillows under his head hardly left any doubt about it.

He could still feel the warm hand in his.

Still holding on.

Never letting go.

**Hi! I just couldn't leave this the way I did so I decided to add this. It's short, I know. If you don't like it, or prefer the way it was before then ignore this chapter - it originally ended in chapter one with Sherlock's death. Your opinions would be gratefully appreciated because I'm tempted to continue this story at some point (unsure if i will at the mo') :D - not meant to be a hint/bribe/whatever for reviews.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everybody!**

Just an update.

There is a story followed on from this under a different title - Life Continues.

It's basically this story continued =D

Thanks for reading!


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